Limbo
by wingless crimson
Summary: [Feat. Atobe Keigo x Fuji Syusuke] He used to love this person…but he can’t remember what it feels like.
1. The Distance Between Us

**wingless crimson presents**

--

**Title: **Limbo

**Category:** Prince of Tennis/Tennis no Oujisama (belongs to Konomi)

**Type: **After Series/Partial AU

**Genres: **Romance/Drama

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **(Feat. Atobe Keigo x Fuji Syusuke) He used to love this person…but he can't remember what it feels like.

**N.O.T.E.S.**

Hi all, me again!

Well, this is yet another one of my experimental fics, this time, I'm playing around with presence tense, hopefully I won't get burned too badly. It was an idea my friend came up with for her screenwriting class, I thought it sounded interesting. This should be finished in about 6-7 chapters if all goes well. All comments welcome and have a nice read.

_-wingless (03-09-07)_

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**I**

**The Distance Between Us**

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* * *

Fuji Syusuke can't stand sleeping next to Atobe anymore. Because he lies awake and stares at the other cradled next to him, like a child. He used to love this person, narcissism and all. But he can't remember what it feels like.

It's a terrible feeling, this…emotional amnesia, he can think of no other words. Fuji reaches out to touch Atobe's forehead, maybe he would remember what it feels like if he touched this self declared perfect being.

He does, and feels nothing. It's like they have always been strangers. Fuji slips out of bed.

-

Atobe Keigo wakes up without an alarm clock in the morning. He has never woken with the aid of one, probably because they are annoying and he is forever breaking them by slamming repeatedly across the room.

He sits up and stretches in a very ineloquent way because he is alone. The other side of the bed is empty, and judging by the coldness of the sheets, it has been for a very long time.

He shakes his head and begins to get dressed. He being alone in bed is quickly becoming routine too. It's like it's always been that way.

-

Fuji opens his eyes, after a brief glance at the heavy gold watch that hung on his wrist (an anniversary present from Atobe) he rolls off the couch and drags himself to the kitchen. In a minute, Atobe will be waking up.

It's funny how things are. Atobe spends all day at the office, and Fuji, all day in the cellar studio. The only times they get to see each other are breakfast and the occasional dinner if they both make the effort. Most of the time it's too much of a hassle for either.

He makes pancakes lathered in butter, because Atobe likes them. Fuji has given up on complaining about how fattening they were. Sometimes, he can't help but wonder if his homemade pancakes are the only reasons Atobe stays.

No…scratch that, Fuji's pancakes are the only reason that Atobe lets _him_ stay. This is Atobe's house. He keeps forgetting.

But it is kind of depressing, once he really thinks about it.

-

Atobe enters the kitchen dressed for work. He doesn't need to look to know that Fuji is still in his oversized shirt and sweats. Fuji used to be beautiful no matter what he wore; Atobe wonders if he is losing his mind.

Maybe he is. But just really slowly, so no one notices. Least of all himself.

"The newspaper's on the table, Atobe." Comes the equivalent of good morning. "I think your stocks went up."

Atobe sits and flips open the paper to the business section, a glance tells him that they went down. He lets Fuji know. "They went down."

"Oh." Is all receives as a reply.

He flips from the business page to the sports section, sometimes he sees familiar names, titles like _Rising Star Echizen Takes Wimbledon for Fifth Time Running._ The sad thing is that Echizen Ryoma has been rising for four years, and still going strong.

He reads a little more into the blurb and finds that Echizen is being coached by his former captain/lover Tezuka Kunimitsu. He is the one that adds in lover; only the tabloids think like him, the respectable newspapers don't dare.

And then Atobe flips to 'From the Editor's Desk', because he doesn't want to think about what could have been, and finds a lengthy rant about global warming written by Sanada Genichirou, 'senior editor'. The former vice captain of Rikkai Dai probably still has the personality of cardboard; this is a nice, unassuming job that suits him quite well.

"Here, would you like some coffee?"

He remembers when he used to look up, and be lost upon that beautiful visage. But beauty is common now, it tires Atobe. It tires him so much, he often thinks about hating it.

"Yes, please."

It could have been a coffee and a kiss. Would have been.

But it seems that they are both tired.

Fuji hands him his coffee, it has a slightly bitter tang to it, Atobe winces, but it's the way he has always had his coffee. Just this morning…it is more bitter than usual.

"May I have more sugar?" Just like a boy. He would have earned another kiss then.

_Isn't my mouth sweet enough for you?_

But Fuji merely drops two more sugar cubes in the cup and slides it back to him. "Here. Too much sugar isn't good for you."

"Ore-sama is still young and beautiful," Atobe gulps down the drink, it is still too bitter to suit. "I don't need to be lectured yet."

"I wasn't lecturing." Fuji sounds slightly miffed. "…Are you coming home for dinner tonight?"

"Can't, I have to meet with the Kanawa Group people for dinner." Atobe stands up, "Do you want to come?"

"No, all that business talk bores me." Fuji smiles, though his expression is still heavily shadowed. "I don't see why it doesn't bore you."

It bores Fuji, that's not news, but usually, the other comes anyway, "It does bore me." Atobe smirks, "But the wine makes up for it." He pauses. "…I don't know what time I'll be back…"

"…I won't wait up, don't worry."

-

"…I won't wait up, don't worry." As soon as Fuji says these words, he wishes that he can take them back, in vain, of course.

"Bye then." Atobe waves a careless hand and leaves.

Fuji sits down to eat his own breakfast, in the same seat that Atobe occupied just moments earlier. He drinks tea, not coffee. And he takes to skimming through the paper, because he wants to know why the news suddenly interests Atobe so much.

There used to be a time when Atobe spends breakfast undressing Fuji with his eyes. And Fuji almost misses those mornings where he spills coffee because of those stark, wanting stares.

The eyes would become hands, and then Atobe would be late for work without fail. It always makes Fuji laugh.

He almost misses them. But he doesn't miss them. The thought disturbs him a little.

Why doesn't he really miss them?

To that, Fuji has no answer, or rather, no true answer that he himself can believe. It's the same as having no answer.

He reads a blurb about Echizen's taking of the Wimbledon for the fifth time running. 'A homegrown champion coached by his junior high captain'. A more accurate word for that would have been lover.

Fuji doesn't finish reading because he is afraid that he'd get depressed, of course, the fear itself is ironic, because not a single day passes now without him being depressed in one way or another.

So he flips to the front of the paper, and finds a lengthy editorial about global warming, written by Sanada Genichirou, someone who has also abandoned tennis for a more realistic career.

All the doom saying makes his head hurt, so Fuji puts that aside. He thinks about calling Atobe, no…calling Keigo—no, just Atobe. Atobe hasn't been Keigo since—Fuji can't remember when. But anyways, he thinks about calling Atobe to tell him that he would be attending dinner with him, with the Kanawa Group people.

He decides against it in the end. A rather off-key professional photographer as his company to a business dinner wouldn't do very well for Atobe's image as a prominent businessman. Fuji knows that.

So he doesn't.

But then…he used to. And he wonders why Atobe has never minded before.

Fuji puts the newspaper aside, since reading it confuses him even more. It tells him nothing about how Atobe feels about him, and of course, expecting the paper to pertain his own (nonexistent) emotions towards Atobe…well, that's just too much altogether.

He sits there for a while, hands folded neatly in his lap. You can't just wake up and decide you don't love someone anymore, he tells himself. It's not possible.

Yet it is.

* * *

Atobe gets to his office on the fourteenth floor and spends the better part of the morning doing nothing. He has three secretaries working for him, and all three of his calendars are empty.

He stares at his phone, a solar-powered device that sports only the latest technologies. Fuji's cell number is speed dial one, though he hasn't called that number in a long time.

He thinks about calling Fuji, to ask him if he would change his mind and attend the dinner with him. Fuji is off-key, but Atobe prides himself on not being the run of the mill, even as a businessman.

But no, photographers are busy too. Fuji probably already has previous engagements already for shoots and things. He knows because he used to sit in during various sessions and criticize the models that looked too fat...or too pale, or too dark and so on.

Of course he doesn't do that anymore.

He thinks back on the blurb that he read this morning, about Echizen Ryoma, and his briefly mentioned lover, Tezuka Kunimitsu.

Lovers.

As far as Atobe knows, Tezuka and Echizen are still lovers, he wonders how they manage. They make love seem almost as lasting as tennis.

Though who is Atobe kidding? The last time he held a racket…well, he can't remember, sometime during junior high, maybe, the freshman year of high school, at the most.

He dials Tezuka's number and leaves a message.

"Hey, Tezuka, this is Atobe, if you're free for lunch, give me a call back."

A secretary enters with his customary cup of coffee, after just one sip, Atobe yells at her because it's too sweet.

-

It's a good thing smiling is a well-honed instinct now. One of those gentle, expressionless smiles that hides everything…or, just about everything.

Fuji says good-bye to the few model hopefuls that have come down the cellar to shoot for portfolios. One is too fat, one too pale, one bulimic. They are never going to go anywhere. But he doesn't tell them that, they pay him a tidy sum to say the things they want to hear.

So he says them, and imagines Atobe snickering in the background. Atobe has always loved doing that.

"_Her thighs look like elephant hide, who the hell are you kidding?" _

"_Them, they pay me to lie to them, so I will, Keigo. Not everyone's as beautiful as you, you know. You're lucky." _

He keeps a mirror in the cellar, because every photo studio must have a mirror. Fuji avoids looking at it, because he knows that his own smile cannot fool him.

He prepares a sandwich for lunch, tired lettuce, wilted tomatoes. Fuji is reminded that he needs to go shopping for groceries.

The sandwich tastes disgusting, so he throws it out.

Spotting the paper, he thumbs through its pages to find the article about Echizen and Tezuka again.

How can they still remain lovers?

But the thumbnail of them smiling together, it screamed lovers, if anything, not just coach and student.

Day after day, Echizen Ryoma can still wake up and says he loves Tezuka Kunimitsu. Well, figuratively, of course, Fuji is sure they are both too laconic to seriously say it.

He dials Echizen's number.

"Hey, Echizen, it's Fuji. It's been a while, so if you're free for lunch, give me a call back, okay?"


	2. The Silence Between Us

**wingless crimson presents**

--

**Title: **Limbo

**Category:** Prince of Tennis/Tennis no Oujisama (belongs to Konomi)

**Type: **After Series/Partial AU

**Genres: **Romance/Drama

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **Feat. Atobe Keigo x Fuji Syusuke He used to love this person…but he can't remember what it feels like.

**N.O.T.E.S.**

This one took me forever to write, but for once in my life, I am very happy with it. So I hope you do too, Fallen was actually supposed to be updated first, but that one is facing technical difficulties at the moment. A huge thank you for all the reviews.

_-wingless (3/25/07)_

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**II**

**The Silence Between Us**

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* * *

"Don't you ever get tired of being in the papers, Tezuka?" Atobe asks of the expressionless man sitting serenely across from him. But there are other underlying questions beneath the seemingly innocent query. 

_Don't you ever get tired of tennis? _

_Don't you ever get tired of the brat that you are idiotic enough to call lover?_

_Don't you ever get so tired of everything that you just want to die? _

Well, perhaps not that last one. It seems a little drastic.

"If I don't notice the fact that I'm in the papers, it's almost the same as me not being in the papers." Tezuka answers calmly, "Besides, it's the same thing as my asking you if you ever tire of working twenty hour days, Atobe."

Atobe nods, half reading the menu, trying to calculate the most expensive entrees. "I'm very tired. I'll admit that freely."

"But you don't tire of the five-figure salary, do you?"

"Six." Atobe corrects, not at all perturbed because Tezuka is Tezuka, and he doesn't know anything. "No, I don't, actually."

Tezuka touches a hand to his thin rimmed glasses and reaches for his own glass of water. "It's the same thing." He says, between sips.

"It is not." Atobe says. "And anyway, you shouldn't say that, you make just as much as I do. Which makes you a hypocrite."

"But I don't worship money to the point of working twenty-hour days." Tezuka comments, probably ignoring all of Atobe's earlier comments. "I'm not the one that owns three mansions complete with swimming pools and expensive cars."

Atobe regrets inviting Tezuka out to lunch. "…Fuji and I both drive very economic-friendly cars. Tezuka, and I own two houses, not three." He wonders if he was temporarily insane and not aware of it when he made the call. He also wants to chew Tezuka out on the fact that given his chosen field of profession (mainly tennis) it is not possible to work twenty-hour days. Oh, yes, one could practice for the said amount, but not without profound consequences. He is sure they both knew it at some time to some degree.

"That's not my point, and you know it." Tezuka says calmly.

Atobe falls silent. "…It doesn't matter how late I work. Or how early I get off, for that matter." He finally sighs, after a long pause. "It just…doesn't _matter_."

"So are you saying it is Fuji's fault?"

"That's not what I--" Atobe cuts off and takes to staring at the table. "…Don't tell me he got to you before I did." He gives a mirthless laugh of sorts. "I thought I was quick."

Tezuka's lips twitch, as if he wants to smile, but he doesn't, in the end. "Well no, Fuji didn't get to me, as you so…bluntly put it. But he did get to Ryo. He and Fuji are probably having lunch as we speak." He glances at Atobe, and there is a glint in his eyes that Atobe cannot decipher. "But you didn't answer me."

"…Ryo—oh. I wasn't blaming him." The fact that Tezuka calls his lover Ryo is almost funny, in a way, but Atobe doesn't laugh, mostly because Tezuka didn't and he wants to repay the favor. "Whoever said I was blaming him?" He is still unsure how to react to the news of the brat and Fuji having lunch together.

"You did."

"I did not."

Atobe sighs again. For all of his elegance he is still not able to win arguments against a human wall. It is exasperating. "If you ever tire of being a tennis coach, you're welcome to become my personal psychiatrist. I think you'd be good at it."

"No, thank you." Tezuka replies with a perfectly straight face, "Sitting here counseling you informally is scarring enough, I don't even want to think of what would happen should I take up this responsibility professionally."

Atobe makes a face, "You have no idea how much that hurts."

"And anyway, you're transparent enough not to need a psychiatrist." Tezuka continues, as blandly as ever, "Psychiatrists are paid to dig up your deepest, darkest secrets without your consent for your own good. You don't need one because you've already gave it away."

"…I'm not--" But Atobe cuts off in mid protest. He takes a sip of water, and sinks back into the cushioned chair, internally fuming.

-

Echizen Ryoma is twenty-two, and taller than Fuji now. He slides across the booth with an arrogant air that could have rivaled Atobe's. He still wears the same hat, the same t-shirt, same shorts, though of course as a different size and such.

The first thing out of his mouth is simply, "Are you and monkey king having a row again?"

Fuji's smile slips just a little, but he twitches it right back into place with some effort. "…Saa, is that the way you greet a senpai, Echizen? Right now, I'm almost tempted to agree with Ke—Atobe about you." His lips aren't listening to him, right now, they are frozen between a smirk and a smile, "You are really getting to be quite the little brat."

Echizen pulls at the bill of his cap, and crosses his arms, just slightly miffed, "I happen to be taller than you, mada mada dane. And you're not my senpai anymore." He leans his elbows on the table. "…You _are_ fighting with him." He deduces after an awkward pause.

"With who?"

"Monkey King. Who else would I be talking about?" Echizen smirked, "You're really obvious about it, you know."

"And you're downright rude about it." Fuji returns and reaches for the menus that are set down in front of them. He slides one across the table. "We're not fighting; did Atobe tell you we were fighting?"

"He hasn't told me anything, but I'm sure he's going to tell Kunimitsu." Echizen thumbs through the pages with a bored look on his face, "They are having lunch together."

Fuji smiles faintly, Echizen and Tezuka…they were both laconic to a fault, and the fact that Echizen still calls Tezuka 'Kunimitsu, must mean that they are lovers still. "…They are? He never told me."

"Did you tell him that you were meeting me?" Echizen asks.

"No."

"Then it's no surprise that Monkey King didn't tell you." Echizen is amused, "Really, Fuji, what did you expect?"

Fuji sighs, "Echizen, how do the two of you manage it? Don't you ever…I don't know, get tired of it? Of tennis? Of Tezuka?" It has been ten years for each of them.

Echizen stops smirking and looks at him, olive eyes fathomless. "Sure I have. But it's a habit. Something you grow into. That's all life is, Fuji, one big gigantic habit."

"It's not. Then there is not a meaning to everything anymore."

"Life isn't always cheery, Fuji. It's like a tennis match, sometimes you lose."

"Heh, you shouldn't say that when you haven't lost." Fuji smirks.

"I lost a game today." Echizen says, in all seriousness.

"…Oh."

Fuji shakes his head with a genuine smile that is not so faint. "…You've grown up, Echizen, I stand corrected."

"…Shut up." The smirk is back, Echizen Ryoma the brat is back. He sinks down on the booth and plays with his hat.

"…I change my mind." Fuji says hastily, with no small amount of relief, he is not used to Echizen Ryoma, the philosopher, he, like Atobe, likes Echizen Ryoma the brat.

* * *

Fuji is sprawled out on the couch in a childish manner, flipping through magazines and critiquing the worst photos he can find. It's something he does everyday. Atobe used to join him. 

When Atobe walks through the door, Fuji pretends not to notice. But when he hears nothing, he looks up. "…I thought you were going to be late, going to dinner with the Kanawa Group people."

"I faked a seizure and got out of it. Turns out the restaurant wasn't really what I expected." Atobe walks over the couch. "Don't sound so depressed, isn't a good thing that I came home early?"

Fuji sits upright on the couch, he stares at Atobe.

A habit.

Atobe Keigo was a habit to him.

He looks down at the magazines strewn all over, they are a habit too. He starts to pick one up, to show Atobe, so they can get into the habit of laughing at other people's expense again. But he doesn't. He is the one that isn't grown up.

Instead, he stands up and walks to the kitchen, "Faked a seizure?" He has only prepared a meal for one (namely himself), he hastily spoons some more rice from the cooker into another bowl.

Atobe stands at the kitchen entrance, watching Fuji work, "It's not that hard, all you do is shake and sprout gibberish."

"Wouldn't that hurt your reputation?" Fuji smiles though, he finds that funny.

"Fuck my reputation." The words leave his mouth before he can help it, but Atobe is not sorry that he has said them. "I'm allowed to be human every once in a while too, you know."

Fuji sits down at the table, hiding a wince. "You're human." He says softly, avoiding the other man's gaze, "I'm not so much that I can interest a God, you know. That's not to say I wish I didn't." He pauses, "Come eat, Atobe, the food will get cold."

Atobe does, and he stares across the table at Fuji. He opens his mouth but cannot think of a single thing to say. 'What did you do for lunch today?' is on the tip of his tongue, but he doubts that Fuji would actually come out and tell him.

"So what did you do all day?" Fuji asks, trying to sound casual as he picks up his chopsticks.

"Not much." Atobe replies, purposely vague. "You?"

"Saa, I didn't do much either." Fuji answers, keeping the replies as general as possible. "I'm glad your day was eventful…was it eventful?"

"Yeah."

"Mine too." Fuji offers, ending the conversation on a strange note.

Then there is silence. The dead kind of silence that neither of them really like, but they don't know what to do with it, so they both eat and leave it alone.


End file.
